


When Lost Souls Find Home

by GrandDukeForever



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Male Slash, Not Canon Compliant, Reboot, Remix, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slash, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrandDukeForever/pseuds/GrandDukeForever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rest of the world sees what they do not.  It takes them years to realize that they have always been bound together.</p><p>Was <i>very</i> happy with <i>The Winter Soldier</i>.  “Stucky” will always be my OTP in this fandom.  Seriously can't get enough of them.  This story is mostly my own headcanon for how I wish the story for this pairing would go in this fandom, but I do borrow some elements from the movies and canon comic-verse here and there if I thought it fit the story.  If you believe fanfiction needs to be pure and almost exactly true to canon, then it's very likely you won't enjoy this story very much.  Or if you don't like slash.  Just putting that out there as a heads up!  Otherwise, I hope readers will enjoy the story!  More tags will be added as I think of them.  </p><p>Also, I have an extremely <i>vague</i> idea how long this story is going to be.  We'll see how many readers find themselves enjoying this, I suppose, using that as an influencing factor and then play things by ear!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I really just felt myself in the mood to write something beautiful, sad, and yet happy at the same time. Hopefully I will accomplish my mission? I suppose you could also say this is a pilot chapter of sorts, haha. This is my first time ever writing for this pairing and not just lurking about and reading it. Lolol. 
> 
> Not abandoning the _Pacific Rim_ fandom, I swear! Just taking a brief break for a while. I just enjoyed this installment of _Captain America_ way too much and really wanted to write something for it!

James Buchanan Barnes, the ever-feared “Winter Soldier,” flexed the newly customized arm that had been an unexpected gift from Nick Fury.  It would be years still before science would become advanced enough to truly regenerate the limb he lost; however, at the very least, technology had come far enough to provide him with a flesh-like material with which to cover his bionic arm.  It now both looked and felt like the real deal.  Only Bucky would be able to feel the truth.   
  
A familiar voice cut through the thick silence that filled the room.  “Looking good, Buck.”  
  
The Winter Soldier's posture stiffened.  In another life, one that seemed so far away now, friends and paramours alike had called him by the nickname “Bucky.”  Whenever he heard the name now, it always gave him reason to pause.  He only knew of one person who would shorten the name further and call him “Buck,” however, and that, along with the fact that he was without a shred of doubt about who had just spoken, was enough to take his breath away.  
  
Bucky's jaw set as he tried his best not to allow his body to tremble.  Tears began to blur his vision.    
  
There were a thousand things he wanted to say; millions of questions he wanted to ask.  The problem was, he didn't have a clue where to begin.  He also couldn't trust himself to keep his emotions in-check, so he settled for the simplest thing.  
  
“You're late.”  
  
He had said it softly and his voice sounded gravelly, almost as if it were rusty from years of disuse.  The familiar chuckle that came from behind him warmed his heart.  Bucky closed his eyes and found himself praying with all his might that the other man in the room not be an illusion.    
  
“I know, Buck.  I'm sorry.”  
  
He could hear the small smile in that voice.  Listening carefully though, he could hear how the one speaking was tired; worn.  It made him worry in a way he hadn't felt the need to in years, sending him back to a time where things were simpler.  When he was better known for his charming smile, habit for chasing skirts, and always looking out for the one person who really mattered to him.  Before he became known as a cold-blooded killer.  Before everything changed and became so different.  Bucky's brows creased together in a light frown.    
  
“It's okay,” he said, opening his eyes and slowly turning around on his heels.  “I forgive you.”  
  
The other man standing in the room before him was very much who Bucky thought he was, but still a small part of him questioned the reality of the situation.  There was plenty of evidence to prove otherwise though, at least, Bucky thought so.  Looking at the way the man's blonde hair seemed a shade darker than it should have been, and how tired the man seemed, both in his eyes and the way he stood.  He was a shadow of the super soldier Bucky had come to know him to be.  Bucky took a step forward.  
  
“...welcome back,” he said, tentatively, unsure.    
  
When the other man smiled, Bucky could swear that it seemed like the whole room was being lit up with it, and it reminded him of old times.  Then the light faded just as quickly as it had come when the man staggered, and Bucky rushed to close the gap between them, catching the other man in his arms before his body could hit the ground.    
  
Bucky blinked rapidly.  The man cradled in his arms was warm, solid.  He brushed a few strands of blonde hair from the man's face and choked back a sob.    
  
“Steve...?” Bucky whispered, saying the other man's name for the first time that night.  “Stevie...?  God...you're here...!  You're really, really here...!”  
  
His childhood friend looked up at him through half-lidded eyes.  He gave Bucky a sheepish smile as he nodded.  
  
“Yeah, Buck...” Steve Rogers said weakly.  “I made it...I'm back.  Sorry I kept you waiting so long...”  
  
Bucky ran a thumb gently at the space underneath one of the other man's eyes.  Now the things he had been told recently in regards to his best friend were starting to make sense.  Bucky shook his head.  
  
“When was the last time you slept?” he asked.    
  
“God, that does feel as real as it looks...” Steve responded with a soft chuckle, referring to the hand Bucky used to caress his face.  “Fury did good by you, didn't he?  Finding that material...”  
  
The Winter Soldier frowned.  “Don't give me that kind of crap right now.  Quit trying to change the subject.”  
  
Steve half-smiled and gave a slight shrug.  “Hey...it was worth a shot.”  
  
Bucky shook his head.  “Don't make me ask you again, Steve.”  
  
His heart clenched when the blonde gave him a look as if he were about to cry.  Steve shook his head.  
  
“The truth is, Buck...I don't know,” Steve whispered, forlorn.  “I'm not even sure if you can help me...”  
  
“Shhh...” Bucky said, threading his fingers through his best friend's hair in an attempt to comfort him.  “What do you need, huh...?”  
  
“I told you, I don't know...” Steve said softly.  
  
“No,” Bucky said firmly, shaking his friend gently.  “You do know.  Come on, Steve.  Tell me...”  
  
“Fine.  Fine then...just...don't let me sleep?” Steve said, looking up at his friend tearfully as he said so.  “Please?”  
  
Bucky's shoulders sagged and he gave the other man a most sympathetic expression.  “Aw, Steve...you and I both know you can't stay awake forever.  Even a super soldier's got to sleep sometime...”  
  
“I know, but...I'm afraid,” Steve admitted hesitantly, biting down on a part of his lip as he did so.  “Stay with me...?”  
  
Bucky squeezed his friends shoulders gently.  “Always.  You know you don't even have to ask.”  
  
Steve nodded.  “But what if I...?”  
  
“You won't,” Bucky said, firmly.  
  
“But Buck...!”  
  
“You won't,” Bucky repeated, shaking his head.  “I won't let you slip away from me again, Steve.  Not ever.”  
  
“Bucky...”  
  
“I'll be right here when you wake up...” Bucky said, sounding far more confident than he felt.  “I swear.”  
  
Steve let out a small sigh when the dark-haired man pressed a loving kiss to his forehead.  Bucky then moved to press his lips against Steve's, causing the blonde to emit a small noise of surprise.  When Bucky pulled away, both their faces were somewhat flushed and their breathing was equally ragged.  
  
“Got to be honest with you...” Bucky said with a small chuckle.  “I've always wanted to do that...”  
  
Steve couldn't seem to decide between grinning wildly or appearing stunned.  Anyone who didn't understand the situation would have likely interpreted the resulting grimace to be an expression of pain.

“Well, I...uh...I'm glad you did.”  
  
Bucky frowned.  “This ain't goodbye though...!  I mean...you know...it wasn't meant to be.”  
  
Steve nodded and gave the other man a small, tired smile.  “Yeah, Buck...I know.”  
  
His eyes began to flutter in defeat.  The blonde gripped at part of the shirt his friend was wearing.  
  
“Don't let go of me, Buck...” Steve begged softly.  “Okay?”  
  
“I won't,” said Bucky.  “I promise.”  
  
Finally relenting, Steve allowed his eyes to slide shut and the muscles in his body relaxed as he slipped into slumber.  Bucky drew his friend's body close, hugged him tightly, and held his breath.


	2. Forever Starts Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Kudos and bookmarks!! Haha. Glad to see people seem to be liking this fic enough already. Makes me excited to write on! :)
> 
> So the rule of thumb in comics, especially ones published by companies like Marvel, seems to be that storylines transform and backstories for characters are changed almost constantly, leading to a fair share of inconsistencies. (Which makes sense, of course, when writers and artists change and so on.) That being said, as I mentioned before, I'm doing a lot of picking and choosing myself with this story. Below are the two main points readers need to know for the moment, lol, just to make sure people know what I've got going on in my little headcanon-verse.
> 
> I'm going to be using their birthdates from the movie timeline, so that means that Bucky's birthdate is March 10, 1917 (instead of 1922, because I like the idea of him being older than Steve) and Steve's birthday as July 4, 1918 (instead of his original 1920). Initially, I was using the original 1920 date for Steve, but then after watching the movie for a third time (yeah, I know, I'm one of THOSE people, lol) and listening more closely to the dialogue in it, there's a part where Arnim Zola mentions Steve having been born in 1918, so I went back to this chapter to make that change.
> 
> The prequel comic has Steve's mom pass sometime between 1924 and 1930, with Steve living at an orphanage at 1930. This seems to contradict what's implied in the movie, where he and Bucky (at the very least) appear older, anyway, and something Bucky says in that scene made me think his biological parents were still alive for some reason, even though as far as I know in comic-verse, that isn't the case. In response to this inconsistency, I've borrowed ideas from both movie and comic to develop my own version on their background story, ultimately leaning more towards the movie side of things. Hopefully this will make more sense while reading what I've written.
> 
> I think that about covers everything for now. Hopefully everyone enjoys this next chapter! :D

_“For the last time, runt...you Eighth Avenue punks wanna cross Tenth, you gotta pay a toll.  Two bits for two ways.”_  
  
Bucky had fully intended to walk straight by the alley.  While he was no coward, he also wasn't the type that went actively looking for trouble.  Kids getting themselves beat up happened all the time in Hell's Kitchen.  Bucky couldn't help but stop though, when out of the corner of his eye he was distracted by a flash of familiar blonde.    
  
 _“Not...giving you...a red cent...”_ the young boy, who appeared to be no older than twelve, said while coughing in between words.  
  
Bucky had seen the boy many times before; he lived at an orphanage nearby his house, that much Bucky knew.  The first time Bucky noticed him had been when he had happened to glance over at the orphanage on his walk home from school, and he had seen the blonde through a window.  Even though they had never spoken to each other in person, there had been something about the boy that day that had stuck with Bucky.  Maybe it was because the other boy looked so scrawny, or perhaps it was something far simpler, just mere curiosity.  Whatever the case, Bucky had found himself thinking about the other boy constantly ever since.    
  
 _“Look at this runt!  Too dumb to know he's beat!”_  
  
This was his first time seeing the boy out in the open, outside the confines of the orphanage.  It was hard to tell whether the kid or the gang of boys harassing him had started the fight, but Bucky was willing to bet it was the latter—something told him the blonde was either too proud or overconfident in his abilities to stand down.  Bucky didn't spend much time thinking about it either; he knew the kid could only take maybe a few more hits at best before he'd end up crumpling to the ground.    
  
Bucky was never the type who went looking for a fight, but he most certainly didn't like bullies either.  He had also been wanting a chance to talk to the blonde boy for some time now—for a few months, at least.  He figured now would be as good a time as any to give that a try.  After all, who knew when he'd be given the opportunity to do so again.  It wasn't an ideal situation, certainly, but in some ways it was perhaps for the best.  Bucky probably never would have gotten the nerve to walk up to the boy and introduce himself otherwise, under normal circumstances.  
  
 _“S'all right.  I can spend all day provin' it to him if I have to.  Not like I got anything else better to do.”_  
  
Bucky grinned.  That was his cue, he decided.  
  
“ _I'll_ say,” he said, throwing a punch at one of the bullies, pushing him right into another one.    
  
“Hey, why don't you mind your own business?!” one of the harriers snapped, irate.  
  
Bucky chuckled.  A strange emotion swelled inside him then, one he wouldn't be able to properly describe until years later.  The thrill that comes with protecting one's staked claim, to put it not so eloquently.    
  
“It _is_ my business,” said Bucky.  “Watching you shake down little kids every day is making me nauseous.”  
  
It was only half-true.  Had it been any other boy, Bucky might have easily turned the other way.  Then again, if it had been a girl, he would have stepped in then as well.  That was different though, of course, from why he had entered the fray now.    
  
Bucky had no difficulty fighting the bullies off on his own, and he was impressed by the blonde's persistence as he continued throwing in a few more hits himself.  Foolhardy or brave, Bucky had yet to find out.  Together, they were able to chase off the rascals in minutes.  Bucky laughed at their retreating forms.  
  
“Hah!  Bullies always run true to form—and I do mean _run_ ,” he said, unconsciously flashing the blonde boy a flirtatious grin.  
  
The blonde stuck out his chin.  “I woulda worn them down eventually.”  
  
Bucky's smile faded a little.  He had to admire the boy's spirit, but also recognized an underlying sensitivity there.  It drew out Bucky's desire to protect.    
  
“Yeah, when they died of old age,” he said, his tone only half-joking.  
  
He couldn't understand the sudden urge that rose within him to draw the other boy closer to himself when the blonde raised up his fists, shooting Bucky a challenging look.    
  
“Maybe you wanna go a round or two too?”  
  
“Whoa there, cowboy!  Holster those guns!  I come in peace,” Bucky said with a half-smile as he raised his arms in surrender.  “Never even occurred to me to stand up to those bums until I saw a shrimp like you do it.  You're a real inspiration, you know that?”  
  
He didn't know where the affection in his voice had come from.  Bucky was the friendly type, sure, he never had any difficulty making friends or attracting girls, but he never really felt anything beyond the surface-level before.  There was a warmth he felt towards this stranger though, something Bucky hadn't known he was capable of.  It was intriguing, to say the least.  
  
“Thanks...I guess,” the blonde said tentatively, as if he couldn't decide whether he had been given a back-handed compliment or if Bucky had been genuine with his words.  It appeared he was settling for the latter, however, as he relaxed his posture and held out a hand, which Bucky took.  “Steve Rogers.  Been in the orphanage on Eighth since my mom passed.”  
  
 _Steve Rogers._   Bucky barely managed to keep himself from breaking out into a wild grin.  He finally had a name.  
  
“Good to know you, kid,” Bucky said as he shook Steve's hand.  “James Buchanan Barnes.”  
  
It was how he always introduced himself first, although it was a tactic he used mostly to impress girls.  He had to admit the name had a bit of a smooth air to it, and he had his parents to thank for that.  He didn't know what compelled him to introduce himself to this boy in the same way now, but he felt the odd need to prove something.  
  
“My friends call me Bucky,” he continued while pointing at himself.  
  
Either Steve was oddly perceptive for his age, able to tell Bucky was the type who wasn't good at saying things outright—like asking Steve to be his friend, for example—or he felt the same strange spark of affinity with the older boy that Bucky did.  Whatever the case, the blonde caught the dark-haired boy's meaning.    
  
“Whatever you say,” Steve said, somewhat shyly, lips curled into a small smile.  “ _Buck_ ,” he tested, cautiously.  
  
This time, Bucky allowed himself to grin.    
  
“Whatever you say,” he echoed, teasingly.  “ _Stevie._ ”  
  
The blonde's smile grew.  They were all right. 


	3. Brooklyn Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo hoo! SO invigorated at the response I've been receiving for this fic so far, and we're not even at the good bits yet. Updated the tags for major sexual tension...BECAUSE I JUST REMEMBERED THAT'S A HUGE COMPONENT TO THIS FIC! BWAHAHA! Anyhow...hope everyone out there following this enjoys this next bit, because I sure as hell had a fun time writing it. :) Looking forward to hearing what you all think!

Bucky stopped by the orphanage every day for a year after that.  It always brightened his day to see the way Steve's face would light up whenever he dropped by after school.  The blonde's generally sunny disposition was one of many things that had captured Bucky's attention right away.  
  
He shook his head in mild disapproval when Steve burst from the front doors of the orphanage.  The nuns who ran the place didn't stop him, and Bucky assumed it was for pretty much the same reason why he had difficulty staying angry at the blonde for long.  There was just something that made it hard to say no to Steve Rogers.  
  
Bucky felt his eyes narrow when Steve broke out into a fitful of coughs after reaching him.  The dark-haired boy reached out and placed his hands on the blonde's shoulders, steadying him.    
  
“Hey.  You know better than to come out all blazin' glory like that,” Bucky said sternly.  “You know m'not going to run off on you or anything.”  
  
Steve wheezed and the smile he gave Bucky came out looking more like a grimace.  “Yeah, I know, but...!”  
  
Bucky shook his head.  “No buts, pal.  I'm going to stop coming by if it seems like all I'm doing you is more harm than good.”  
  
Steve's shoulders sagged slightly.  “Aw, c'mon, Buck...you don't mean that...”  
  
“Dead serious,” Bucky said stubbornly, jutting his chin.    
  
“Yeah, all right...” Steve mumbled, looking down at his feet.  
  
Bucky half-smiled.  He clapped a hand on one of his friend's shoulders and shook Steve gently.    
  
“Aw, c'mon.  Chin up,” the dark-haired boy said.  “Want to come over again?  Maybe spend the night?  I asked my folks; they said it was fine.  Can you ask good ol' Mother Goose for permission?”  
  
Steve looked up at him and crinkled his nose.    
  
“That's Mother _Superior_ , Buck. Come on...show some respect,” Steve said chidingly.  “And no...I can't.  I...”  
  
Bucky frowned when the blonde looked down at his feet again.  The older boy placed his hands on his sides and leaned forward, trying to get a better look at Steve's face.  
  
“Hey...” he said softly.  “S'the matter, kid?”  
  
When Steve looked up at him helplessly, Bucky felt his heart clench.  The blonde gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged.    
  
“M'getting adopted today,” Steve said quietly.    
  
Bucky's throat went dry.  He had been begging his parents incessantly to either adopt Steve or ask around and see if any of their family friends would take him, just so the blonde could always stay close.  Something told him though that whoever was adopting Steve wasn't a referral from his parents.    
  
“What...?” he said, his voice sounding a bit strangled.  “By who...?”  
  
“The Westins,” Steve replied.  “They seem nice.  They're even letting me keep my last name.”  
  
Bucky had to roll his eyes at that.  Steve was always quick to see the good in everybody, even if there wasn't any to be seen there.  It's one of the reasons Bucky liked him so much.  He always took his friend's positive words about others with a grain of salt though.    
  
“Where are they taking you?” Bucky asked.  
  
Steve shrugged.  “They live somewhere down in Brooklyn.”  
  
Bucky frowned.  “And they came all the way up here?”  
  
Steve shrugged again, helplessly.  “They really do seem nice, Buck.”  
  
Bucky shook his head.  “When are they coming for you?”  
  
“They're already here,” said Steve.  “All there's left to do is for them to sign the papers...hey!”  
  
Steve yelped in surprise when Bucky took hold of his hand and started dragging him along.  The blonde stared at his best friend's backside, confused.  
  
“What are you doing?  Let go of me, Buck!” Steve said.  “I told you, I can't leave!  The Westins—”  
  
“Aw, to hell with them!” Bucky growled.  “I'm not gonna let 'em take you so far away from me without a fight.”  
  
“But Bucky...!”  
  
“Don't argue with me, pal.”  
  
Despite Steve's protests, the blonde ultimately allowed himself to get led to his best friend's home.  Bucky's mother was there to greet them with a smile when they walked into the small townhouse; however, her expression shifted to one of concern when she saw the downcast look on their faces.  
  
“Everything all right, boys?”  
  
“No, it ain't,” Bucky said.  “ _Isn't_...” he quickly corrected himself after, when his mother flashed him a look of disapproval.    
  
“Better,” his mother said with a nod.  “Now would one of you please tell me what is going on?”  
  
“Well, ma'am...” Steve said, explaining the situation despite of the glare his best friend was giving him.  “You see...I'm supposed to be getting adopted today, and—”  
  
“They're trying to take him to Brooklyn,” Bucky said angrily, abruptly cutting off his friend.  “They won't though.  Not if I've got anything to say about it.”  
  
His mother's eyebrows seemed to rise up to her hairline.  “Oh,” she said.    
  
Just then, the phone rang.  Bucky's mother turned in its direction and spoke to herself as she walked over to answer the call.  
  
“Oh my.”  
  
“Come on,” said Bucky, turning to Steve while his mother became preoccupied with the telephone.  “Let's head on up to my room.”  
  
“All right, Buck...”  
  
The dark-haired boy glanced over his shoulder at his friend as the two of them walked up the stairs. “Hey...don't worry, all right?  If anyone's going to get in trouble, it's going to be me, so...”  
  
“That's not exactly what I'm worried about...”  
  
“Then what is it?” Bucky asked as the two of them entered his room.    
  
He immediately felt guilty when he saw the expression on Steve's face.  The blonde looked as if he were about to cry.  
  
“I mean...I don't know...” said Steve.  “What if they don't want me anymore after this...?  What if they thought I wanted to run off?”  
  
“Aw, Steve...!”  
  
The blonde shook his head.  “I mean, because it's kind of true...you know?  As much as I want a family...I don't really want to be far away from you either...”  
  
Bucky sighed and dropped his shoulders.  “Sorry for actin' selfish, Steve...”  
  
“Not your fault,” his friend said kindly, looking up at him with a small smile.  “I probably would've done the same.”  
  
Bucky half-smiled.  “You're a terrible liar, Steve.”  
  
The blonde frowned.  “What?”  
  
“Come on,” Bucky said with a short laugh.  “We both know you're better than that.  You always make sure to do what's right...”  
  
Bucky sighed as he trailed off.  After a moment he took in a deep breath and continued.  
  
“Listen, Steve...” the dark-haired boy said, expression serious.  “If they've noticed even half of what I see in you...I promise you they'll do whatever it takes to take you with them.”  
  
His friend's ears tinged a light shade of pink.  “That's...that's awful nice of you to say, Buck.”  
  
The older boy swallowed.  “Still not planning to give you up without a fight, though.”  
  
Steve smiled warmly at his friend.  Right then, Bucky's mother called up to him from below.  
  
 _“James Buchanan Barnes!  You come on down here right this instant!”_  
  
Bucky sighed.  He couldn't help but to smile a little though when he noticed Steve try to stifle a laugh.  Bucky shrugged.  
  
“Looks like I'm in trouble,” he said.  
  
 _“James Buchanan!”_  
  
“Coming, Ma!” Bucky hollered.  He looked at Steve apologetically.  “Maybe you should stay here...”  
  
“Nah.  I'm coming with you,” Steve said, shaking his head.  
  
Bucky chuckled.  “Right.  Of course you are.”  
  
The two boys headed down the stairs.  They met Bucky's mother where she was in the kitchen, and neither boy was surprised to see the look of displeasure on her face.  Winifred Barnes looked pointedly at her son.    
  
“Would you like to know who that was on the phone?” she asked.  
  
Steve felt his lips twitch upon seeing Bucky plaster on one of his trademark smiles.  They both knew the only woman it never worked on was Bucky's mother.  Still, it never seemed to stop the older boy from trying.  
  
“No, ma'am,” Bucky said, sweetly as could be.    
  
His mother shook her head in disapproval.  “ _That_ was the head of the orphanage Steve is from.”  
  
Bucky winced.  “You don't say...”  
  
“Ah-ah!” his mother tutted, holding up a finger.  “Don't get smart with me now, young man.”  
  
Bucky hung his head and tried his best to look shameful.  “Yes, ma'am.”  
  
“I was told that Steve was supposed to go with his new parents today,” his mother continued.  “In fact, I was able to speak with them on the phone as well, and I explained to them the situation.”  
  
Now the guilty look on Bucky's face looked more genuine.  “They comin' for him...?”  
  
His mother nodded.  “They are.  In fact, they should be here in just a few minutes—you know we're not far from the building.”  
  
“Yeah...” Bucky said, dejected.  
  
“It'll be all right, Buck...!” Steve said, trying to sound chipper.  “I'm sure we'll still get to see each other.”  
  
At this, Bucky looked at his friend and smiled a little.  “Yeah, you're right...!  This doesn't have to be goodbye...!”  
  
Right then, the doorbell rang.  Bucky's mother began to walk in the direction of the front door.  
  
“That must be them,” she said.  
  
A few seconds later, everyone had gathered into the living room.  Elliot and Clara Westin were the names of Steve's adoptive parents, and as his friend had said, Bucky had to admit that they did seem like nice people.  Of course, that opinion had come only after the Westins had agreed, along with his mother, that the two boys could see each other as often as they'd like.    
  
It turned out that Mr. Westin had come from the same orphanage as Steve, which was why he had come back to adopt a child from there, now that he had made something of himself and could afford another mouth to feed.  He and his wife were unable to have a child of their own, and after meeting Steve, despite how sickly he was, they knew right away that he was the one that they wanted.    
  
They were all in the middle of a lively conversation when Bucky's father, George Barnes, came home from work.  George took a quick glance at all of the people sitting in his living room and raised his eyebrows at his wife.    
  
“We having a party today, Winnie?” he asked, somewhat bewildered.  
  
His wife laughed.  “Excuse us, one moment,” she said to the Westins before dragging her husband to the kitchen to give him a briefing.    
  
Before long, Bucky's father returned and became engaged in conversation with Steve's new father in regards to industrial job opportunities in Brooklyn.    
  
“We'll keep in touch, George,” Elliot promised as he and Bucky's father shook hands just before leaving with his wife and Steve.  “I'll let you know if anything opens up.”  
  
Bucky's father nodded.  “I'd appreciate that.  Thank you very much.”  
  
“I'll see you soon, all right?” Bucky said to Steve as he handed the blonde a slip of paper.  “Here's my address.  Write to me, okay?  I'll write you back.”  
  
Steve clasped the scrap tightly and smiled.  “I sure will, Buck.  Don't worry.”  
  
Bucky sighed.  “C'mere, you!”  
  
The blonde laughed when his best friend pulled him in for a hug.  At some point, the laughter turned into a bit of coughing.  Bucky frowned and placed a hand on the back of Steve's head while using his other hand to pay his friend on the back gently.  Within a few moments, Steve's wheezing had calmed down.  
  
“You take good care of yourself now, y'hear?” Bucky said softly.  “I'll come around as often as I can.”  
  
He felt his friend nod.  “Yeah, I will, Buck.  Thanks.  Lookin' forward to seeing you.”  
  
“All right.  That's enough now, boys,” Bucky's mother said gently as she pried the two of them apart.  “Steve's got to go with his new family now.”  
  
“Y'all are welcome anytime,” Steve's new father said, tipping the hat he was wearing towards Bucky's parents in a respectful gesture.  “Evening, George.  Winnie.”  
  
“Same to you,” Bucky's father said with a nod.    
  
Bucky's hand shook a little at his side as he watched Steve and his new parents drive off.  He waited a few extra moments after Steve's car rounded the corner, and then he brushed past his parents and rushed up the stairs to his room.    
  
Later that evening, Bucky overheard a bit of a conversation that his parents were having.    
  
 _“...feel bad for him, George.  The two of them got so close over this past year.”_  
  
 _“Don't worry, Winnie.  The boy's new parents did seem like very kind folk.”_  
  
 _“Mm...they did, didn't they?”_  
  
 _“Yes, and if that man comes back to me with a job offer, you can bet we'll all be packing our bags and heading straight for Brooklyn.”_  
  
Bucky heard his mother sigh at that.  _“Oh, it **would** sure be nice to get out of this neighborhood...!”_  
  
Nice indeed, Bucky mused.  He wasn't about to sit and wait for a miracle to happen, however.    
  
His friend also appeared to be of the same mindset.  Steve's first letter to Bucky came within a couple of days.  The minute his mother handed it to him, Bucky took it and ran straight to his room to open it.    
  
 _“Hey Buck,”_ it read.  _“Everything is real good here so far.  My new mom and dad are real nice...they said I could call them that, and I don't really mind.”_  
  
Bucky snorted fondly at that.  It never ceased to amaze him how the blonde seemed to be able to put a positive spin on just about everything.  It was what made him a perfect counterbalance for Bucky, and that same trait was also the reason why he always viewed everything Steve said with mild to great skepticism.  He made a disgruntled noise of disapproval after finishing the letter; supposedly Steve was in very good hands.  Bucky wasn't going to believe it until he saw it for himself though.  So the first chance he got, which was when school let out for him the following summer, Bucky called ahead to Steve's new residence and had his father drive him all the way down to Brooklyn one weekend.    
  
Mr. Westin was there to greet them.  “George!  Good to see you.”  
  
Bucky's father nodded as he approached the other gentleman with his son.  “Same to you, Elliot.  How are things?”  
  
“Oh, same old, same old,” Steve's father said with a smile and a shrug.  “Listen though, while the boys get themselves reacquainted, why don't you and I have a little chat in the living room?  I've got some good news for you...”  
  
Bucky's father raised his eyebrows.  “You don't say.”  
  
“Oh, I do say,” Steve's father said with a chuckle.  “But do come inside.  You can find Steve in his room, little Jim.”  
  
Bucky nodded.  “Thank you kindly, sir.”  
  
He didn't ask where the blonde's room was, and he didn't have to.  There were only so many places to look, after all.  When he opened the door to Steve's room, he was surprised to see how pale the boy looked.  Shocked, and a little angry.  Steve's mother was in the room beside him, tending to him.  Bucky frowned and rushed towards the bed.    
  
“What have you been doing to him?!” Bucky growled at Steve's mother as he nudged his way between her and the bed so he could get closer to his friend.  “Stevie!  Are you okay?  You all right?!”  
  
Steve coughed a little and managed to give Bucky a small smile.  “Hey...relax, Buck...!  It's all right...she's been takin' care of me real good...!  She—”  
  
“What a load of bull!” Bucky snapped.  “Just look at you!  You look white as a sheet!”  
  
“Bucky!” Steve responded sharply with a disapproving frown.    
  
Bucky sighed and gave Steve's mother an apologetic look.  “I...I'm real sorry, ma'am...I just...”  
  
Steve's mother laughed softly.  “It's quite all right, sweetheart, I understand.  Little Steve's just been recovering from a nasty cold...he's gotten through the worst of it though.  Isn't that right, honey?”  
  
The blonde nodded as enthusiastically as he was able.  “She's right, Buck.  I'm feelin' a lot better than I was just a few days ago, honest!”  
  
Now _that_ , Bucky did believe.  The dark-haired boy sighed again in resignation.  Just then, Bucky and Steve's fathers entered the room.    
  
“What's all the commotion?” Bucky's father asked.  
  
“Nothing at all,” Steve's mother said with a smile, rising from her seat.  “The boys were just a little excited to see each other after all this time.”  
  
She stifled a laugh when she recognized a similar expression of skepticism on Bucky's father's face as he scrutinized his son.  “Well, if that's all it was...”  
  
“It was,” Steve's mother insisted.  
  
Her husband cleared his throat and clapped his hands together.  “Well!  We've got some fantastic news for you boys,” he said, glancing over at Bucky's father.  “You want to tell 'em, George?  Or should I?”  
  
“I'll do it,” Bucky's father said as he looked at his son, who looked up at him expectantly.  “Son?  What do you say about spending some time here at the Westins?”  
  
The eyes of both boys widened at the same time.  They both spoke at once.  
  
“Golly!  You really mean that, Pops?”  
  
“You're letting Bucky stay here, sir?”  
  
“Yes, that's right,” Bucky's father said with a nod.  “Steve's father and I have just arranged it.  I'm being offered an interview at his plant.  There's a chance we'll be moving ourselves to Brooklyn, son.”  
  
“In the meantime, your father and I agreed that it's all right for you to stay here for the summer,” said Steve's father, who smiled at the blonde.  “We both thought it'd do you a world of good to have your best friend here, son.”  
  
Steve beamed.  Bucky looked dumbstruck.    
  
Bucky's father nodded.  “Already called your mother too.  She's given her permission.”  
  
At that, Bucky snapped out of it and rushed towards his father, flinging his arms around the older man.  It was something he hadn't done in years.  Bucky's father didn't seem to know what to do at first, but then he slowly returned the embrace and pat his son firmly on the back.    
  
“Thanks, Pops!  You're real swell!” Bucky said.  
  
His father chuckled.  “Am I, now?”  
  
“Hear that, Steve-o?” Bucky said, ignoring his father and turning to look at his friend.  “Looks like you're stuck with me, pal!”  
  
To which the blonde responded by giving his friend a slight shrug and lopsided smile.  “Ain't a better way to be, I suppose,” he said simply.  
  
“You're damn right!” Bucky said with a huge grin.  “Ow!”  
  
Bucky rubbed at where his father had thwacked him on the head.  “You watch your mouth or I'll be sure to clean it out with soap.  You hear me, son?”  
  
“Yes, sir...” Bucky said demurely, though Steve could still see his friend's eyes were twinkling with mischief.  
  
It was a sign of times to come.  Bucky's father performed well in his interview, and was hired within the month.  By summer's end, they were living in a house just a few blocks away from Steve's residence.  Bucky's presence also seemed to do wonders for the blonde's health, something that didn't go unnoticed by either of their parents.    
  
 _“B-Bucky...!  W...wait!”_  
  
Bucky frowned and turned on his heels; he had been walking with a group of his friends from school.  Distracted by entertaining conversation, he hadn't realized that he had left his best friend so far behind.    
  
“Jesus, Steve!” Bucky said as the blonde caught up to him, wheezing.  “Why didn't you say something to me sooner?”  
  
Steve shook his head.  He was slightly bent forward, one hand clapped over one of his knees while he waved the other one at Bucky.    
  
“Didn't think...you guys would...get so far ahead so fast...” said Steve, huffing as he tried to catch his breath.  “Left...something...in the classroom...thought I could just run back...catch up...”  
  
One of Bucky's friends scowled at them in disapproval.  “Aw, c'mon, Bucky!  Stop babysitting this loser—hey!”  
  
Bucky threw a punch at the kid before Steve could stop him.  He held the other boy up by the collar.  
  
“You shut up,” Bucky growled.  “That's my best friend you're talkin' about, here.”  
  
He backed off a little when the other boy managed to pry off his fingers and jerked back, wiping at the bit of blood running down his nose.    
  
“Hell, Bucky!  What's the matter with you?” the boy asked.  “Protectin' the runt like he's your dame or something.”  
  
Bucky had been about ready to throw another punch at that when Steve's voice stopped him.  “Bucky!  No!”  
  
Bucky halted mid-strike and glanced over his shoulder at Steve, who was shaking his head.    
  
“It ain't worth it, Buck...” Steve said softly.  “Stop it.”  
  
“Yeah, lay off, Bucky!” another one of the boys said, joining in on the intervention.  “Come on, Billy.  Let's go.  Let 'im go off and cool his head.”  
  
The boy whom Bucky had assaulted sniffed, offended, as he brushed a hand to wipe off the rest of the blood dribbling from his nose.    
  
“Yeah, all right.  Let's get out of here, guys,” the boy named Billy spat.  “Leave Prince Charming and his bride to it.”  
  
If Steve hadn't been there with his friend, there was no doubt that there most certainly would have been a fight.  Bucky only lowered his hand after the boys started to walk away.  When he turned back to look at Steve, the blonde was staring at his feet.  
  
“Sorry, Buck...” Steve whispered.  
  
Bucky frowned.  “No, kid.  Don't worry about them.  You shouldn't have to listen to people talk to you like that.”  
  
“They're your friends though,” said Steve.  “And now they might be mad at you...”  
  
“Aw, I don't give a damn about them,” Bucky said, placing his hands firmly on Steve's shoulders.  “And for the record...”  
  
He smiled when the blonde looked up at him curiously.  “Yeah?”  
  
“They aren't my friends, not really,” said Bucky.  “Steve.  _You_ are.  The only one I need, in fact.”  
  
He smiled a bit wider when he noticed Steve blush a little.  Bucky then tilted his chin in a slight upward nod at his friend.    
  
“So what'chu leave behind, anyhow?”  
  
“Mm...nothing important, really,” Steve mumbled.  
  
Bucky quirked an eyebrow.  “Yeah?  Well, now I'm even more curious.  Show me.”  
  
“It's really nothing, Buck...” Steve said, cheeks flushing a darker shade of red.    
  
“Aw, don't give me that!” Bucky said with a laugh, reaching behind Steve's back for the little book sticking out of his friend's bag, which he assumed was what the blonde was trying to hide.  He knew he was right, the way Steve protested and tried to grab it back, but Bucky was just too fast for him.  “Here, let's have a look...!”  
  
“Bucky...!”  
  
The dark-haired boy held the book up over his head and opened it up, skimming through its contents while ignoring his flustered friend.  His brows were creased together at first, as it took him a second to realize what he was looking at.  The minute he did, his facial features relaxed and he let out an appreciative whistle.  He brought the book down and looked at his friend.    
  
“You draw these?” he asked.  
  
If Steve hadn't looked like he was blushing before, he sure as anything did now; his face was red as a tomato.  “G-give me that, Buck...!” he stuttered as he yanked the sketchbook back from his friend, unable to look the older boy in the eye.    
  
“Because they really are quite good,” Bucky said encouragingly as he tried to get Steve to look at him.  The blonde wasn't having it though.  
  
“T-that's awful nice of you to say, Buck, but...you don't have to be so nice about it,” Steve mumbled.  “I ain't half as good as I ought to be...”  
  
Bucky frowned.  “Well, nobody becomes a genius overnight!  I think it's a hell of a lot better than anything I could manage, at any rate.  You tryin' to take art classes after we graduate?”  
  
Steve shrugged.  “I...I don't know, Bucky...I guess...maybe...?”  
  
“Hm.  You wanna know what I think?” asked Bucky.  
  
Steve looked up at him with a wary smile.  “Sure,” he said.  “Something tells me you were going to tell me anyway, though.”  
  
“You're damn right,” Bucky said with a cheeky grin.  “And I honestly think you should, Steve.  From what little I looked at, I think you're a mighty fine artist.”  
  
The blonde went right back to being bashful and staring at his feet.  “Not exactly a respectable means for a living for a man...you know?”  
  
Bucky frowned.  “Who says?”  
  
“I...I dunno,” Steve said with a shrug.  “The whole world, Buck?”  
  
“And like I always say,” said Bucky.  “Who gives a flying fuck?”  
  
Steve responded with a predictable gasp.  “Bucky!”  
  
The older boy ignored him.  “Come on, you know your parents won't care!  If anything, they'll support you.  One hundred percent.  As will I.  Hell, and once you find a school you like, I'll be sure to follow along and be right there with you.”  
  
Steve blushed again.  “That's real swell, Buck...thanks.”  
  
“Don't mention it,” Bucky said with a smile.  “I'm with you 'till the end of the line, buddy.  Remember that.”  
  
The blonde nodded and smiled fondly back.  “Yeah, I know...”  
  
“Atta boy, Stevie!” Bucky said, draping an arm around his friend while wearing an easygoing grin.  “That's the ticket.  Chin up!  Now...whose place are we going to today?  Yours or mine?”  
  
“Well...I think my mom might be cooking something for dinner tonight,” said Steve.  “Not sure what it is though.  I forgot to ask before I left for school.”  
  
“Say no more,” Bucky said as he nudged the younger boy along.  “Your place it is!”  
  
The two boys laughed as they continued their conversation on the way to Steve's home.  Just a pair of best friends having a fine time together, walking the streets of Brooklyn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, and...totally fabricated the name of Steve's adoptive parents. There was no mention of anything like that when I did my research and nothing in the comics as far as I can recall, so I just picked random names that seemed to flow to serve the purposes of this fic I'm building. Anyway...moving right along! Hopefully I'll have at least one more chapter up by the end of the night! We'll see!


	4. When the War Came to Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to get this chapter out MUCH sooner, but I had a ton of ideas rolling around and I couldn't decide on where I wanted to go first. Finally settled on this one.
> 
> Many thanks to everyone for your continued support! I can't believe how many kudos and story alerts this fic has got already! You guys are fantastic. :) And to all those who commented, you guys definitely gave me a giant push forward. Love y'all!
> 
> Again, there's a lot of pick-and-choosing that went on here. The movie prequel comic actually contradicts some of the events that happened in the movie, so I once again just borrowed some elements and made my own little twist to things. Hope readers don't mind! Enjoy, and hope to see/hear from you all again real soon!

True to his word, when Steve decided he wanted to attend art school in Manhattan, Bucky followed him. To him, it hadn't even been a question.

They had pooled their funds together and rented a flat nearby the studio with a single bedroom, partly because it was just cheaper that way and besides, it wasn't like they were strangers to the concept of sharing the same bed. Bucky had spent plenty of nights, curled next to Steve while they were growing up. The way the blonde got sick so frequently had always been a point of constant worry for Bucky, and it had always driven him crazy when he hadn't been able to be close by. His stubborn insistence on always being nearby Steve had sometimes resulted in his catching the other man's illnesses, but Bucky hadn't minded. That's what best friends were supposed to be for, after all, Bucky thought, and he believed that with all his might.

At some point though, Bucky's feelings had developed beyond just a protective instinct. He didn't know when it all started. Definitely before noticing he was starting to forget names and not really be able to tell the difference between the girls he rifled through. Perhaps it was his mother's subtle mention of an observation that she had made over the years that had been the trigger, after Bucky had told her that he and Steve would be sharing such living quarters. His mother had smiled and placed a hand on Bucky's cheek, tapping at it affectionately.

 _“You be careful now, son,”_ she had said to him kindly. _“The world is much bigger out there than it is here. Not everyone is going to understand what it is that you have with Steve...not everyone has the sense enough to appreciate why it is that you feel the need to be so close to him.”_

He hadn't thought twice about his mother's words then. Now, Bucky wondered if perhaps she had seen something or, at the very least, understood something that he hadn't realized himself until some time after he and Steve had moved up to Manhattan. Part of him liked the thought that his mother knew and supported him; there was a bit of comfort in that.  Especially given the views of the society they lived in.  He'd rather damn himself than to admit any of it to his best friend, though. Bucky felt that Steve was just far too pure to be corrupted by his awakening selfish desires.

It was a difficult thing, however, to scale things back in the way he interacted with Steve, all so that the blonde wouldn't get suspicious. The plan sort of backfired on him too, as Steve misinterpreted his reasons for distance, and they ended up getting into several arguments about it.

One time was in bed, funny enough. They had been laying on the mattress, side-by-side, both turned towards each other. Bucky had been telling Steve a story about his latest romantic escapade, as per the younger man's request through a friendly jab he had made about how he just couldn't understand how the dark-haired man was able to swoon so many women without scandal. Bucky had gone so far as to reenact with Steve part of what had gone on with one of the women in bed, and that had been where the trouble had started.

Swept away by his own enthusiasm of his storytelling, Bucky almost hadn't realized how close he had brought their faces together, how his body was covering part of Steve's, or how he had threaded a few of his fingers through the blonde's hair. Not until he noticed the way Steve's lips were slightly apart, blue eyes somewhat clouded.

 _“Y-yeah...? And what then?”_ Steve had asked, a bit breathless.

Bucky had been about ready to show, rather than tell, Steve how exactly he had gotten the woman to “shut the hell up,” as it were, when the dark-haired man suddenly realized what he was doing and jerked back from the blonde roughly. Steve had reacted almost instantly as well, and Bucky tried to ignore the look of hurt he had seen flash across the younger man's face.

 _“Holy shit, Steve,”_ he had said in a hurry as he scrambled out of bed. _“I'm sorry.”_

 _“What? Bucky? Where are you going?”_ Steve had asked as the dark-haired man had started to make his way towards their bathroom.

 _“Nothing. Don't worry about it,”_ Bucky had said before slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. He had stripped down and drawn a tub of cold water right away, hissing when he settled himself into the icy cold. _“ **Je** sus **Chri** st...”_ Bucky had groaned softly while he focused on losing his hard-on.

He had wanted to kiss Steve. And as far as he knew, Steve didn't have a clue. Bucky was fucked.

Later, when he had come out of the bath, Steve had been standing right there, glaring at him. Bucky had done his best to act casual, brushing past him so he could rummage through their drawers for a change of clothes.

 _“So that's it then?”_ Steve had said. _“We're not even going to talk about it?”_

Bucky was pretty sure he had imagined the soft intake of breath that had followed shortly after he had unceremoniously dropped the towel around his waist, letting it pool at his feet. No way Steve was affected by him in the same way he was by the blonde.

 _“Let's just call it a night...all right?”_ Bucky had said tiredly.

They didn't end up talking about what transpired later that evening either, when Bucky slipped an around Steve in the middle of the night when he was sure the other man was sleeping soundly. Nor did either man feel compelled to discuss Steve emitting a contented sigh as he leaned into the older man's hold. Bucky wasn't sure if Steve even noticed anything unusual about the way they had woken up tangled; it wasn't like that sort of thing hadn't ever happened to them before whilst sharing a bed.

Sometimes it took a little while for things to settle down between them after one of their off-beat arguments, but going to art class seemed to help move things right along. Bucky knew he wasn't a whiz kid like Steve when it came to things like sketching contours and painting things on a canvas, but he was able to take full advantage of his handicap, turning things around for himself by showing the blonde his terrible handiwork to make his best friend laugh.

It was also the perfect way to build his cover. The art studio sometimes employed female subjects as models, and Bucky began to throw himself more enthusiastically into his pursuits of women.

“She ever gonna take the robe off?” Bucky said on one of these particular days, when the woman they were tasked with drawing was a beautiful redhead.

“Eventually she does, yeah,” Steve replied, chuckling in response.

“About what time?” Bucky said, he tone lighthearted and joking. “I've got to go to the can, and I don't want to miss it.”

Even without looking, the dark-haired man could tell Steve was smiling, despite himself. “The concept of 'art appreciation' isn't really sinking in with you, is it, Bucky?”

“What? _She's_ art,” Bucky said instead of what he had been truly thinking, which was that had Steve been up there as the model, there was no doubt that the older man would have put in more of a considerable effort. Not that he'd ever allow Steve to do anything like that in public in the first place though. “And I appreciate her!”

He allowed Steve to glance over his shoulder at the awful drawing he had made. The woman on his sketch paper, if it could even be called that, looked absolutely nothing like the model. The blonde grinned.

“You got a funny way of showing it,” Steve said.

Bucky smiled back at his friend. “Philistine. You are talking to the next Picasso.”

His smile grew a bit wider when Steve laughed. “It's true what they say, then. Art is dead.”

Before the older man could come back at him with another witty remark, they were interrupted by a gentleman bursting into the studio with some grave news.

“ _War!_ We're at _war!_ ”

That got everybody's immediate attention. The messenger continued frantically.

“ _Sneak attack_ —they bombed the hell out of Pearl Harbor! Get your uniforms on, boys!”

Steve jumped up from his seat. “Wait—who bombed what now? Pearl Harbor? That in Queens?”

“Turn on the radio!” another gentleman suggested.

Bucky and Steve dropped their materials, quickly threw on their jackets, and filed out of the studio along with the rest of the men so that they could go find a radio and hear the news of what was happening.

“All those sailors...entombed in their ships at the bottom of the sea...” Steve murmured as they made their way down the stairs. “What their families must be going through...”

 _“At approximately eight A.M., local time, Japanese aircraft attacked the main base of the U.S. Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor,”_ went the news broadcast. _“Just outside Honolulu...”_

Bucky knew what his friend was going to say before Steve even looked his way. “We _have_ to enlist.”

“I know _I_ do,” Bucky agreed. Patriotism was one of many sentiments the two of them shared. “But I thought _you_ were gonna put Normal Rockwell out of business.”

Once Steve got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him though, and Bucky knew that well. Still, he felt that he'd be damned if he'd allow Steve to sacrifice his life on the front lines. Fortunately, given the younger man's medical history, the idea of the military even _entertaining_ the idea of Steve's enlistment seemed laughable. At the same time, Bucky had also seen Steve do the impossible and always somehow manage to get his way, even if it would do him more personal harm than good. That thought alone made Bucky a bit nauseous.

“This is a higher calling,” Steve insisted, unsurprisingly. “Roosevelt won't just go after Japan—we'll be at war with Hitler and Mussolini soon enough. He'll need everybody he can get.”

There was a potential truth to that statement, and Bucky didn't like it one iota. He opened his mouth to protest.

“But you—”

“Save your breath,” Steve said, cutting him off. “I've heard the same script since we were kids.”

 _“Why can't she sit still, stay at home, and just be content to be a great wife and good mother, I used to wonder,”_ Bucky's father had said to him once, when talking about his mother. _“Why can't she see that I love her no matter what? Even without her going above and beyond all that society expects from women. Even if she suddenly lost the ability to do anything...can she see that I would take care of her for the rest of my life?”_

While Bucky hadn't completely grasped the whole meaning of his father's words back then, he sure as hell understood them now.

 _“Why can't you just stay here in Manhattan and stay **safe**?”_ Bucky wanted so desperately to ask his friend. _“For me, if nothing else? Why can't you just let me take care of all the fighting for the both of us, and you just mind your health? Sit here and be happy to draw to your heart's content without feeling the need to place yourself in harm's way? Not like anyone would fault you for it, Steve. Not in your condition. The world ain't that cruel.”_

Except it was. Part of Bucky didn't want to serve at all just so that he could remain by Steve's side and protect him from all the disapproving stares of people who looked down on anybody with poor health and a weak disposition. Not even the nicest woman seemed capable of appreciating Steve, who Bucky knew had the heart of a champion, and that was a huge part of what made it so easy for the older man to move onto the next admirer without so much as a second thought. He didn't want to marry anyone that couldn't respect his friend. He actually didn't want to marry anyone at all, really, but that was a different matter entirely.

Bucky felt a sinking feeling in his gut when Steve gave him a look. The dark-haired man was very familiar with that expression; the sheer determination reflected in Steve's eyes that meant Bucky wasn't going to like what the blonde was going to say next.

“Am I or am I not talking to the three-time West Side YMCA Welterweight champ?”

Bucky groaned internally. It was a situation where he knew where the conversation was going, but he couldn't seem to help walking right into the blonde's trap anyway.

“Well...sure, but—”

Steve wasted no time, jumping in on his chance. “You can get me to pass that physical, Buck! I know you can!”

It was how pure Steve was, Bucky decided. That's why the blonde could always get his way with Bucky in a way that no woman seemed to be able to. Well, in addition to Steve's stubborn streak, of course. Once the younger man had his mind set on something, it was very difficult to sidetrack him. Still, Bucky felt obligated to try.

“I don't know that!” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I need something to work with first! You get winded taking three flights of stairs! You don't need a trainer, Steve-o. You need a _complete body transplant_.”

It was a low blow, Bucky knew. He was always the one who usually fought off people who looked down on Steve for his medical conditions. Bucky would even wonder sometimes if perhaps he was the one to blame for the blonde's overconfidence in his abilities. He hadn't been able to help it in that moment though; he couldn't prevent all his worries from coming out. He'd seen Steve do the impossible before, and he knew better than to let his guard down. Steve wasn't nearly as smooth a talker as Bucky when he talked to the ladies, but he sure knew how to talk his way into other things. Bucky's worst fear would be Steve managing to convince some recruiter to take him on; rope him into the ranks.

Much like how the blonde was convincing him to work with him now. The minute Steve hung his head in disappointment, Bucky knew that he had lost.

“Forget it then,” Steve said as he began to walk away from his friend. “I'll figure it out on my own.”

It was a childish tactic, but it worked every time. Bucky sighed and reached out for the blonde's arm.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” he said softly. “I didn't say _no_.”

When Steve looked up at him and smiled, Bucky didn't know what to think. One day, he'd look back on this day and wonder if perhaps Steve would have given up after all, if the dark-haired man hadn't agreed to train him. They had set on their path though, and roughly four days later, they were at Goldie's Gym.

“Boxing regimen's the toughest there is,” Bucky said, still subtly trying to discourage Steve from his mission.

The blonde wasn't to be deterred, however, and he easily ignored Bucky. Overall, Steve was in very good spirits that day. He happily stepped into the ring with his friend after getting changed in the locker room. Bucky, on the other hand, remained in the semi-dressy outfit he had arrived in.

“You do what I say, _when_ I say it,” Bucky said as he took Steve's gloved hands in his bare ones, staring the blonde straight in the eyes. “Or I walk out that door and you don't see me 'till the war's over. We understand each other?”

Steve half-smiled at him. “You're already enjoying this.”

Bucky allowed himself to give his friend a small smile back. “You bet your ass I am.”

Steve bounced back on his heels and moved away from Bucky. His lips formed a slight disapproving pout.

“Some get up,” he sniffed before jumping a little in place and tapped his gloves together in eagerness. “So we gonna warm up with jump rope or—”

Bucky fitted on his gloves while Steve was talking and threw a punch before his friend could say anything else. The hit landed with a loud crack. Steve let out a surprised yelp and fell flat on his back.

“What the hell?!” Steve exclaimed angrily.

“No warm up,” said Bucky. “Basic principles. You're _weak_ , Steve. So you gotta stay _alert_ at all times, or the strong'll take advantage.”

There was another reason why Bucky had agreed to work on boxing with Steve. If he didn't enlist and stayed behind to care for the blonde, Bucky knew Steve wouldn't forgive him. If he joined the military and left Steve behind, he had no doubt that his friend would be getting into trouble without him while trying to do something noble, like save a damsel in distress from robbers or something along those lines. Bucky hoped that if he could at least teach Steve to hold his own in a regular street fight, then he wouldn't be worrying so much whilst fighting in the trenches.

And, if Steve managed to get himself enlisted by some sheer and bizarre stroke of luck, Bucky wanted to make sure that his friend would be ready for the grueling demands of war. He hoped that it would never come to that though.

“Just like the many gang up on the few,” Bucky said as he helped Steve up from the ground. “Bigger means slower. So you gotta be _fast_.”

Steve nodded. Bucky caught his friend by the shoulders and steadied him.

“Now don't make the mistake of thinking all big guys are _dumb_ ,” he said softly. “But still—you got to be _smarter_.”

The blonde nodded again. “Yeah...I get it, Buck.”

Bucky moved back only when he was confident Steve wouldn't fall over and sighed. “All right then, kid...let's go!”

They spent the next few days training in the ring. Slowly, Bucky could see a slight improvement in Steve's stamina.

“Good!” Bucky encouraged him one day when he had Steve throw some punches against his padded hands. “That's my man! Come on! Keep it going! Don't punk out on me now!”

Steve was still coughing and wheezing during their workouts, but he was getting better at standing his ground without needing to rely on Bucky for support every once in a while. It encouraged Bucky to push his friend a bit harder.

“Gimme an uppercut!” Bucky challenged his friend, smiling in approval when Steve landed his mark with a satisfying smack. “Good!”

At night though, sometimes Bucky regretted it. There were evenings where Steve became so sickly, it worried the older man to no end.

One time after one of their training sessions, it was particularly bad. Bucky had Steve wrapped tightly in several blankets and was very attentive when tending to the man.

“ _Jesus_ , Steve...” Bucky murmured worriedly as he changed out wet towels to place atop Steve's feverish forehead for probably the sixth time that night in an effort to cool him down. “I shouldn't have pushed you so hard today...I'm sorry.”

“No...Buck...” Steve said, shaking his head and coughing in between words. “I just...need a little break...is all. I'll be...back up...before you know it...”

Bucky let out a sigh when Steve's body shook as he entered another fitful of coughs. He stroked his fingers through the blonde's damp hair, which was slick with sweat.

“Yeah, well...let's focus on the getting better part for right now...all right?” he said.

“Deal,” Steve whispered back hoarsely with a nod.

Eventually, when Steve's fever seemed to go down a bit, Bucky stripped down to his undergarments and climbed into bed beside his friend. At that point, Steve's eyes were beginning to flutter, growing heavy with sleep. Bucky settled in beside his friend and wrapped his arms around the blonde, drawing the younger man towards him. Steve let out a small sigh of relief and leaned into Bucky's chest without so much as an argument. Bucky resisted the urge to press a kiss to his friend's forehead, and ran his fingers soothingly along his friend's backside instead.

“Think you can sleep?” Bucky asked quietly.

He frowned when Steve's body trembled as he was assaulted by another slew of coughs. “T...trying...” the younger man whispered.

Bucky sighed. “All right...” he said. “How about I talk and you listen...? Focus on the sound of my voice and maybe we can get your mind off of everything else...”

It was a working tactic that they had discovered by accident when they were kids. One night, during that first summer when they had started regularly having sleepovers at one another's houses, Steve had been feeling particularly lousy. The blonde had managed to hide his weak state successfully for a time while their parents were awake, but then that façade fell apart by the end of the night and he was unable to hide how miserably he truly felt from his friend. Initially, Bucky had wanted to alert his parents—they were at his place that night—but Steve had insisted that he'd be fine. Reluctantly, Bucky had agreed and tucked a bunch of covers around Steve then too, in order to help muffle the noise and keep his parents from waking up and worrying over the younger boy.

A bit of a nervous tick, Bucky had begun to ramble about various subjects when suddenly he realized Steve's coughs had subsided a little and the blonde had been staring at him intently. Slightly surprised, Bucky had unexpectedly trailed off.

 _“You all right, Steve...?”_ Bucky had asked.

 _“Yeah,”_ the blonde had replied, nudging at his chest gently. _“Go on, Buck...I'm listenin'.”_

And so he had. Sometimes, when Steve was feeling well enough, he'd tell Bucky some stories too. About his real father and what he knew of the man's contributions during the First World War. Occasionally, he'd even share a few things about his biological mother, whom he inherited many of his vulnerabilities from.

Now, a lot like then, Steve was staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.  Bucky hugged the younger man a bit closer to himself and stared at the wall behind Steve, resting his chin lightly atop the blonde's head.  Bucky let out a sigh and absently brought up a hand to start running his fingers through his friend's hair as he thought about what he'd talk about.

“Did I ever tell you...” Bucky started, wetting his lips as he hesitated for a second, grasping at straws in his memory trying to think of a good story that didn't involve a romantic conquest. “...about the time I punched this kid out, who was about twice my size, in the schoolyard?”

“What...?” Steve asked, looking up at him, lips curled in a small smile. “No way. I can't imagine that...! I mean, well...I can, because I saw it that first time when you showed those boys that one time in that back alley, but you weren't the type who went out lookin' for trouble, were you? At least, I don't remember you being like that...”

Bucky chuckled. “Well...that was before I ever met you.”

That grabbed the blonde's attention like he knew it would. For some reason, Steve always seemed to get extra fascinated whenever Bucky would share with him any details about his past prior to their becoming friends.

“I didn't have anyone willing to keep me in line, really, and you're right. I may not have gone _lookin'_ for fights...but somehow, they always seemed to come and find me,” Bucky continued with a light laugh. “Can't say I'm too sore about it though, you know? I mean, after all, it was trouble that led me to you, at any rate.”

He said this with a wink and smiled when Steve blushed. “W-well...I guess...” the blonde mumbled.  “Go on, though.”

Bucky nodded and continued. “In my defense, the kid trounced me from behind. I wasn't ready, but I think I've always had them good fighter instincts in me.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly at that. “And you know what we call _that_...? _Mo-des-ty_.”

“Hey! I ain't anything, but!” Bucky said with a grin. “Anyway, I had no idea what this kid was about, but he had it out for me for some reason...”

“Maybe you said somethin' he didn't like so much...?” Steve offered with a small yawn.

Bucky smiled and ruffled the blonde's hair affectionately. It seemed to be working.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Way to take my side though, pal.”

Steve was looking at him through half-lidded eyes; clearly they were beginning to grow heavy. “Mm...sorry, Buck...! So...what'chu do then...?”

Bucky laughed. “Well, for starters, I turned around real quick and threw him a good hook to the jaw. And then...”

Eventually, Steve's eyes fluttered closed, and his breathing evened out as he fell asleep. For several minutes, Bucky stared at the blonde, watching him intently. At one point, when he stopped seeing the exaggerated rise and fall of Steve's chest, Bucky grew a little worried.

“ _Steve_...” he whispered softly. “You sleeping now, pal...? _Stevie_...!”

When the other man didn't so much as budge, Bucky gently pried himself apart from the blonde and adjusted his position.  He closed his eyes, held his breath, and leaned his ear close, hovering just over Steve's lips and nose.  When he wasn't sure whether or not he could hear any breathing, Bucky then changed his tactics and placed his fingers atop the veins of his friend's wrist, to check for a pulse.  After a few minutes, he was able to release a short breath of relief; Steve's pulse might have been faint, but it was still there.  That was enough for Bucky. 

He gently stroked a thumb over part of Steve's face and murmured quietly. “You keep out of trouble for me...will you? Just be good...stay _safe_...and give me a good reason to come back home.”

He drew the man closer to himself again. This time, he allowed himself to dare; planting a firm kiss against his friend's cooling forehead.  

“That shouldn't be too hard for you to do though, eh, Steve-o?  Can't imagine a world without you in it.  Wouldn't want to live in that kind of world, either,” Bucky whispered, his own eyes falling shut as they grew heavy.  “You'll always be one hell of a reason...”

Soon, he too fell asleep, and the only noise that could be heard in the stillness of the room was the occasional sound of ruffling sheets and the rhythmic lull of both men's steady breathing.


End file.
